


think the night away

by albypotter



Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Asthma, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Insomnia, M/M, Social Anxiety, Suicidal Thoughts, Underage Smoking, ok maybe a tiny bit of angst, that makes it sound rly deep and angsty but tbh its just boys being gay at 4am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-10-18 00:54:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20630393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/albypotter/pseuds/albypotter
Summary: It's ironic, Scorpius thinks, that the asthmatic and the social smoker are becoming friends. He hopes they're friends, anyway.





	1. Chapter 1

Sharing a dorm with four other people probably sucks for every teenage boy, Scorpius thinks. Maybe it sucks a bit more for someone who is deeply uncomfortable with inconveniencing others but frequently wakes up in the middle of the night coughing his lungs out, though.

The curtains are still drawn around the other beds as he gets up, so maybe he hasn't disturbed anyone after all. It's only the start of October, but it's already freezing, so he grabs his coat as he passes the rack of hooks on the wall. What kind of lunatic opens a boarding school in an ancient Scottish castle and then refuses to shell out for heating, anyway? 

The door creaks in protest as he pulls it open, and again as he tugs it closed. It's a louder noise than he's happy making in the dorm at this time of night, but leaving it open last week prompted Will Lockwood to give them and the rest of Slytherin house a thorough lecture on 'dorm safety'. At the time, it had seemed entirely unnecessary; less _useful advice_ and more _newly appointed prefect trying to demonstrate responsibility_, but as Scorpius comes up the stairs, the lights in the common room are still on, which is against house rules. He's never encountered another student on any of his middle-of-the-night asthma attack walks - and apparently he won't tonight either, because the common room is empty. Most likely, a first year just forgot to turn the lights out on their way to bed. As he pulls his coat on, Scorpius reaches into the pocket for his inhaler and takes a few puffs. It hasn't been helping much, lately - he knows by now that the cold air is his biggest trigger, but autumn has never been this bad for him before. He flips the common room light off as he takes the stairs up to the ground floor, trying to ignore the rising fear and the growing tightness in his chest. 

The thing about Slytherin house is that, for some unknown reason, it really is a dungeon. Scorpius never notices how stale the air is down there until he reaches the surface, and each breath tastes almost sweet in comparison. As he heads for the castle courtyard, the moment of sweet relief fades, replaced by the now-familiar sense that his lungs are collapsing. _Trying to breathe_ won't make it any better, he knows, but he focuses on the movement of his chest anyway. He thinks it's pretty ironic that the asthmatic was assigned to the one house that's entirely underground, rather than any of the others that exist up here in the open air. Apparently air is pretty hard to come by these days. 

The door to the courtyard is ajar - which, again, is weird, but Scorpius is exhausted because he can't sleep and shaky because he can't breathe and his heart is racing from his medication so he doesn't waste breath worrying about it. That is, until he steps outside and sees the reason the door was open and the common room light was on in the first place. There's a boy - a Slytherin, judging by the green of his school jumper - sitting on the edge of the fountain, his back to the door, a cigarette glowing in his hand. It's a little surprising, because this is _his_ favourite can't-sleep-and-it's-4am spot and there's never been anyone there before, but still, Scorpius doesn't want to bother him. He's about to step back inside and find somewhere else to go, but something constricts in his throat and then he's coughing again. He rests a shaky palm against the wall to steady himself, but it passes quickly this time, and when he looks up the boy by the fountain is watching him. 

Scorpius has to take a few steps towards the fountain before he recognises the boy as Albus Potter: one of his roommates, who probably hates him. Not that that's uncommon. Albus has obviously seen him, though, so it's not like he can hide away like he usually hides from his roommates.

"What are you doing here?" Albus asks as Scorpius approaches the fountain. 

"Oh, well, I- I was awake because I was coughing, and I didn't want to disturb anyone, so I thought I'd come outside because I _really_ can't breathe underground. Not that I can breathe up here either, to be perfectly honest." His tendency to ramble and the shortage of air reaching his lungs isn't a good combination. He doesn't want to, but he finds himself all but collapsing onto the ledge of the fountain next to Albus, and shoves a hand into his coat pocket for his inhaler again.

Albus doesn't say anything, just taps the end of his cigarette on the side of the fountain. The moon is almost full, and in its blue-white light Scorpius watches the ash float to the ground to join the two cigarette butts there. The smoke is acrid and harsh in his airways.

"Why are you here, then?" Scorpius asks once he feels his throat open up a little again, and Albus waves his cigarette in Scorpius's face in response. 

"Why do you think?" Albus's tone is snappy, but Scorpius thinks he probably deserves it for asking a stupid question.

"Are you out here smoking a lot? Only, I've never seen anyone else out and about at night before."

"No," Albus says, voice still hard, maybe just a little softer than last time. "I'm a social smoker."

"Oh," Scorpius says, face creasing a little between his eyebrows. "Only, well... you're here by yourself."

"I'm not. You're here, aren't you?"

"I suppose I am," Scorpius muses. He can't think of anything else to say that Albus wouldn't roll his eyes at, so he sits silently on the edge of the fountain for a few minutes until his asthma attack finally subsides. Now that he can breathe again, he's able to fully appreciate just how tired he is. His watch says that it's 4:37am, so he has to be awake again in less than three hours to make it to classes tomorrow. Albus is still smoking the same cigarette as Scorpius stands up to go, his legs shaking a little. 

"Well, I'm going back to bed now," he says, a little uncertain, not sure whether he should wait with Albus until he's finished. Albus's eyes trace down Scorpius's body.

"You sure you're not going to collapse on the way?"

"What?"

"You look a bit... wobbly," Albus says, and his eyes dart back to the pile of ash he's created on the flagstones.

"I think I'll be okay," Scorpius smiles. "I've managed it before."

He looks back towards the fountain before he pulls the courtyard door closed behind him. Albus is looking down at his hands, watching intently as the last bit of his cigarette burns away. 


	2. Chapter 2

As Scorpius drags himself out of bed the next morning, limbs heavy with exhaustion, he looks over at Albus, who is rummaging under his bed. When he finds what he's looking for - a battered textbook - and throws it in his bag, Scorpius tries to make eye contact, maybe smile, but Albus apparently is having none of it. He pulls last night's green jumper over his head, runs a hand through the mess of hair that curls down against his shirt collar, and leaves the dorm without even glancing at Scorpius. Scorpius thinks he might have felt something like disappointment, if that was a reasonable thing for him to feel. 

  
  
Weeks pass without Albus ever acknowledging his existence, and Scorpius starts to wonder whether he dreamt their night-time encounter. He goes to class, he goes to meals, and he spends most of his free time in the library, because now that he's noticed the stale air of the Slytherin house dungeon, he can hardly stand it at all. He’s usually alone; the problem with being both awkward and nerdy, like he is, is that no one really wants to talk to you much. Even if he had friends, all the students and most of the staff avoid the library at all costs, scared of the librarian. Scorpius doesn’t mind, though. Something about being surrounded by shelves and shelves of knowledge, being able to walk through the aisles knowing that he’ll never have time in his life to read every single book, is comforting to him. It’s a mix of awe and fear and maybe determination, he thinks. Whatever it is, he feels safe in it. 

He usually assumes that he’s the only one around, which is why he only half manages to stop himself from screaming when he turns a corner in the history section and comes face to face with Albus Potter. He lets out a kind of high-pitched squeak instead, and Albus looks at him strangely. 

"Hello."

"Hi, Albus. What are you doing here?" 

Albus glances at the nearest shelf. "I need a book for... chemistry class." 

"But these are all ancient history," Scorpius frowns, and Albus throws up his hands in frustration. 

"Fine. You caught me. I’m hiding from my brother." 

"Oh," Scorpius says, like that explains everything, although he still doesn’t understand. "Why?" 

"He got hold of some kind of prank love potion, and keeps trying to spray it on me so I can ‘_finally attract some girls_’." Albus’s hands form air quotes around his brother's words, and his voice is saturated with sarcasm.

"What, you don’t want your older brother to help you get a girlfriend?" Scorpius asks innocently, and gets a scowl from Albus in return. 

"Love potion or not, I don’t want a girlfriend. I just want them all to leave me alone." 

And now Scorpius has a choice to make: suffer through the anxiety that helping Albus will almost definitely trigger, or leave him to it. 

Naturally, it’s a no brainer. 

"If you really want to hide, there are desks between geography and foreign lit that no one ever uses. Also, the science books are at the back, by the big windows that look out over the lake." Scorpius knows the library inside out by now, but he still second-guesses the words as soon as they’ve left his mouth. "I _think_ that’s right, anyway." 

Albus half smiles, and it could be grateful, or it could be that he’s laughing at how eager to please Scorpius is. "Thanks. I don’t actually need a chemistry book, though." 

Of course he doesn’t. Because that was an obvious lie that Scorpius didn’t pick up on. 

"Well, I’ll be here for a while anyway. If you wanted to sit together, or something." 

Albus watches him, an emotion in his eyes that Scorpius can’t even begin to identify. "Okay. Thanks." 

"No problem," Scorpius smiles, and disappears down the aisle he had just come from, even though the book he was looking for is on the other side, where Albus is. 

Back at his desk, hidden away, Scorpius focuses his eyes on his work, but his mind is elsewhere. _Albus must think I'm so stupid. He couldn't wait for me to leave him alone_. The tightness in his chest now is different to the feeling his asthma attacks give him - it's like all his organs have disappeared and been replaced by a cold fog, and it's not any less awful than when he can't breathe. He closes his eyes and tries to focus on his heartbeat, on long, slow breaths, on the facts of the situation. Albus needed help, so Scorpius offered it. If that makes him think that Scorpius is strange, then that's Albus's own fault. _Or maybe he's just surprised that someone is trying to be nice to him_, some distant part of Scorpius's brain supplies. He doesn't really know what to do with that idea, so he files it away in his head to worry about later and turns back to his textbook instead. 

He's distracted again a little while later when Albus emerges from the bookshelves. The desk he empties his bag onto is on the opposite side of the seating area to Scorpius, and Albus studiously avoids eye contact with him. The time until Scorpius packs up to go to dinner passes silently, but he catches himself watching Albus working more than a couple of times.

* * *

Scorpius wakes up in the night twice more in October. He goes out to the courtyard each time, coughing worse in the crisp autumn air, but desperate for the feeling of freedom it gives him. He’s always hopeful, but Albus is never there. 

At the start of November, there's a huge snowfall overnight. It stubbornly refuses to melt, and when he jolts awake to a silent dorm and a pitch black sky, he really doesn’t feel like getting his shoes wet just for a few moments of clarity outside. Instead, he trails listlessly through the corridors of the castle, hoping for at least an unlocked window. 

What he finds instead is even better. Albus hasn’t spoken to him or even acknowledged him since they met in the library last week, but here he is, sitting by an open door. Scorpius pulls his jacket tighter around his shoulders, shivering involuntarily as he notices that Albus's pyjama shirt doesn't even have long sleeves. He watches Albus blowing smoke out into the gardens for a few moments, then realises that he’s probably being creepy. Albus looks up as Scorpius sits down on the doorstep next to him, and the brown of his skin is flushed with cold. He doesn’t say anything, just takes another drag, so Scorpius doesn’t speak either. The silence stretches, and Scorpius leans back on his arms and arches his back to try and let a bit more air into his lungs. His chest loosens up, but only a little. Albus finishes his cigarette and stubs it out in the snow by his ankle, and after a few moments lights up another. He offers it to Scorpius first, which Scorpius thinks he would laugh at, if only he was less unsure of how to act around Albus.

"No, thank you."

"Suit yourself." 

Scorpius watches Albus's fingers as they bring the cigarette to his lips, suddenly unsure again. Should he explain himself? He doesn't want Albus to think that he's judging him badly for smoking. 

"I wasn't trying to be a dick," Albus says, his mouth forming the words around his cigarette. "I forgot about your..." He gestures vaguely to Scorpius with his free hand. "Your breathing thing."

It seems safe for Scorpius to laugh at that, so he does, just a little. And maybe the corners of Albus's mouth twitch as well. They sit in silence for a few minutes longer, but Scorpius is _so_ curious, and eventually he just can't help himself. 

"Albus?"

  
  
"Hm?"

  
  
"I hope you don't mind me asking, but, well... why are you not in the same house as your brother and sister? I thought the school always put family together."

  
  
Albus exhales in Scorpius's direction, breathing smoke right into his face. Scorpius chooses to believe that it wasn't deliberate. His lungs burn. 

  
  
"Dunno. Maybe they didn't have space for me in Gryffindor, or it was just a mistake. Makes sense for me to be separate, though. I'm not like them." He takes another drag of his cigarette and exhales, this time away from Scorpius. "I don't care, anyway. Gryffindors are all too high and mighty for me. I'd hate being there."

  
  
Scorpius knows that the stereotypes about their school houses have no basis in fact - he would certainly be in the wrong house if that were the case - but when it comes to the Gryffindor students in their year, Albus does have a point. 

  
  
"I think I'd like to have siblings. It gets pretty lonely spending all summer by yourself," Scorpius says, realising belatedly that it’s probably not the best thing to say to someone who apparently hates his siblings. 

  
  
Albus snorts. "You can have mine, if you want them so badly."

  
  
"I might have taken you up on that, except that they’re both in Gryffindor. I doubt I’d get on with anyone that stuck up." On a whim, Scorpius tries to make Albus smile again, properly this time, and it _works_. It’s small, and brief, but Scorpius notices, and his returning smile is wide. 

  
"I guess we have something in common there, then." 

Scorpius is burning with desperate curiosity - why does Albus dislike his siblings so much? What did he mean when he said _I'm not like them_? - but Albus seems to not think that he's utterly insane right now, and he doesn't want to ruin that. It's ironic, he thinks, that the asthmatic and the supposed 'social smoker' are becoming friends. He hopes they're friends, anyway. 

The absence of a wheezing feeling when he takes his next breath interrupts his thoughts. Apparently Albus has managed to distract him long enough for his inhaler medication to kick in properly. He could go back to bed now if he wanted, but Albus isn't quite finished with his cigarette yet, and they are going back to the same dorm, after all. Maybe it would be nice to wait, for them to walk together. 

Eventually, Albus sticks his cigarette butt in the snow and looks over at Scorpius. 

"Are you done, or should I light another one?"

"No," Scorpius chokes out, somehow flustered by the idea that Albus's train of thought has matched his. "I mean, yes. I mean, I'm ready to go back to the dorm now." He hopes that Albus will put his blush down to wind chill. 

"Okay." Albus jumps to his feet before Scorpius can react, and _offers him a hand_, of all things. Scorpius takes it and is pulled to his feet, desperately praying that he's imagining the red flush spreading down his neck.

They don't talk on the walk back to the dungeon. Scorpius wants to walk faster, because the sooner they get back the sooner he can try to sleep, and this pseudo-insomnia is really messing with his focus during the day, but Albus's legs are shorter and he struggles to keep up, so Scorpius tries to match his pace instead. At the bottom of the stairs, Albus flips the light on just to cross the short distance across the common room to their staircase. Scorpius wonders whether that means that Albus is afraid of the dark, and why he insists on going out at night if that's the case. 

His mattress is wonderfully soft as he sinks into it, and Scorpius can feel the warmth of sleep practically begging to take him. There's a soft rustle of sheets a few metres away, and on impulse Scorpius whispers into the dark. 

"Goodnight, Albus."

A beat of silence stretches.

"Goodnight, Scorpius."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hufflepuff scorpius is canon in my heart okay??


	3. Chapter 3

They carry on in the same way for a while, quiet boys meeting only in the dark. They still don’t ever talk during the day, but Scorpius is desperate to figure Albus out, and sometimes when he's watching Albus in the library or the hall or the dorm, he notices Albus watching him in return. They’re in the same places so often now; even when Scorpius is hiding, Albus is there too, more often than not. Then again, maybe it’s not all that strange. Lonely boys will seek out the same lonely hiding places eventually. And, from the little Scorpius has seen, Albus seems about as lonely as he is. Scorpius thinks that they're just tiptoeing around each other. He's curious, and Albus is... mysterious. That seems to be what he wants, though. He acts as though he doesn’t want Scorpius to have the chance to work out who he is, which is in itself even more interesting and frustrating at the same time.

As winter sets in properly, a thick, permanent blanket of snow settles over the castle and the grounds, and Scorpius finds himself relying on his inhaler more and more. A sort of vague, constant tightness settles over his chest as though something is clamped over his ribs, and he lies awake deep into the night, trying to forget that he can’t even manage _breathing_ right for long enough to drift off. Sometimes it works, but most of the time it doesn’t, and he drags himself through the days with an inescapable lethargy. They’re getting close to the end of term now, which means close to the dreaded winter formal. Attending the actual event in the great hall isn’t compulsory, but it’s all anyone is talking about because they’re all just _so excited_. Scorpius wonders whether maybe he should finally go this year, just to see what all the fuss is about, but the thought of going alone is strange and complicated and overall too big in his head, so he pushes it aside. There’s always next year, after all.

Something Scorpius has learned this year is that, when it’s sometime after 1am and he’s still lying awake, every little noise or movement becomes intriguing. He thinks he can tell which of his roommates is turning over in their sleep by the sound they make and the direction it comes from. So when there’s a rustling of sheets from Albus’s corner of the room, followed by soft footsteps and the familiar creak of the door, he most certainly notices. And he follows. Albus has disappeared by the time Scorpius makes it to the corridor, but now that the snow is too thick to go outside, he always sits by the same door that’s conveniently left unlocked at night. Tonight is no different. 

"Can’t sleep?" Scorpius asks, as he settles on the cold stone next to Albus. There’s no cigarette in his hand, not yet, but there’s a slightly crumpled packet and a blue plastic lighter on the ground by Albus’s foot. 

"Can’t breathe?" 

Scorpius smiles at that. "Not tonight. I was still awake and I heard you get up and, well, I thought you might like some company out here." 

Albus is quiet for a while, staring out across the gleaming white expanse of the castle gardens. He picks up his lighter and flicks it on, then off. On and off. Then he asks, "doesn’t it bother you?"

They’ve had a sort of easy rhythm going for a while now, when they meet at night. Scorpius tries to make conversation, and Albus gives him short and mostly non-committal answers as long as the topic stays relatively light. So this is certainly different.

Scorpius frowns. "Doesn’t what bother me?" 

"The smoking. Doesn’t it bother you that your own lungs are fucked and you’re spending time with someone who’s trying to stop breathing?" 

And, well, doesn’t that give him pause. There’s something light in his chest like butterflies. "Are you? Trying to stop breathing, I mean. Like, permanently?" As soon as he asks the question, he realises that he doesn’t want an answer. 

"I don’t know." 

Scorpius watches Albus as he looks down at his hands. Albus flicks the lighter on again, staring at the flame as it dances in the darkness, just for a moment, before it disappears. Scorpius isn’t sure whether he should be asking for more - this is obviously sensitive and delicate, and his conversational skills are anything but. He thinks he has to at least try, though. 

"Why?"

Albus looks over at him suddenly, surprised. 

"I mean, why did you start smoking?"

Scorpius is certain that he’s put his foot in it, that he’s gone too far, and now Albus will leave and never speak to him again. 

"At first, it was just a ‘rebellious teenager’ thing. You know, how the cool kids are supposed to hide in an alley or behind the bike sheds or whatever and smoke cigarettes and gossip, and their parents hate it, and they get expelled from school? Only I don’t have any friends and I’m not cool, so I just did it by myself. And for some reason I didn’t think it would be addictive, but it is, of course it is, so now I’m out here all the time, all by myself, and it just makes me feel more... real. More alive. Even though it’s literally killing me." 

"Wow. It’s just that, I thought you said you were a social smoker." 

Albus smiles faintly. "I have a terrible sense of humour." 

Scorpius is going to say the wrong thing any second now, he’s certain of it, but he can’t stop. "Does anyone else know?"

"That’s the funny thing," Albus says, in a tone that betrays absolutely no humour whatsoever. "I wanted to piss off my dad, but he has no idea about any of this." 

Scorpius’s mind is racing, trying to take everything in, but now that Albus has finally started talking to him, apparently he can’t stop. 

"Not that it could make things worse if he did know. I’m already a disappointment to him. I’m nothing like _perfect_ James or _perfect_ Lily. I’m practically failing every single class, I’m not athletic, I have no idea how to make friends because every time I try and talk to someone I say something stupid and they think I’m crazy. I’m not in Gryffindor house like my whole family has been, for generations. And I’m..." 

Albus chews on his lower lip and manages to look everywhere except at Scorpius. 

"I think I’m gay." 

Scorpius feels like his heart is ballooning, crushing all his other organs to the sides as it expands to fill his whole chest, and he aches horribly. He lives to help others, but where is he supposed to start?

"Al," he says softly. "Albus. It’s okay." 

Albus’s hands shake as he reaches for his cigarettes. 

"I used to burn myself with them too, you know. For a little while." He turns the packet over in his hands. "I don't do it any more. In case you were worried about that. Not that I'd expect you to be."  
  
Scorpius recognises distantly that it's strange - he thinks that he and Albus know each other so well, but really all they have is these strangely honest night time talks. If Albus knew him better, he would know that Scorpius is hard wired to worry far too much about everyone and everything. 

And when someone is hurting so much, what can he do but reach out? 

"Al-" he starts, but Albus is faster. 

"I’m sorry," Albus says, "I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be dumping all my shit on you like this in the middle of the night. You shouldn’t have to put up with all of this... All this stupid teen angst. You barely even know me, and here I am, forcing my whole life story on you."

"It’s okay," Scorpius says again, while he tries to work out what he could possibly say next. 

"All those things you said were wrong about you... For a start, some of them aren’t really _wrong_ in the first place. And the others are all things we can fix." 

Albus glances up at Scorpius, his brown eyes deep and strange. "We?" 

"Yes, _we_," Scorpius says. He’s determined to be brave now, because Albus needs it. "I want to help you, if I can. That’s what friends do, isn’t it?" 

"Oh, so we’re friends now?" 

"If you want to be." Scorpius feels like he’s blind and he’s reaching out in the darkness and finally, wonderfully, Albus reaches out for him too. 

"Of course." 

"Great. As for your list, well," Scorpius starts checking items off on his fingers. "Schoolwork, I can tutor you, and unless you want to go on to be some marvellous scientist, it’s not that important anyway. You’re not athletic, but you really don’t have to be. Look at me, I’ve got two left feet and I get on fine." Albus is smiling, soft and sweet, and the thrill Scorpius gets from it is a beautiful surprise. "You’ve got me as a friend now, so that’s sorted. If you want to quit smoking, or you want therapy - I can’t exactly do anything about that, but I can help you find someone. And - um, what else was there?" 

Albus is pulling the sleeves of his jumper over his hands, and he looks so much _smaller_ now than he has before. 

"What if... what do I do when my parents find out I like boys?"

This really isn't how Scorpius was expecting tonight to go. No one has ever come out to him before. "Do you think they'd be awful about it?"

"Oh, not at all. They'd probably be all awkward and supportive and buy me a rainbow flag. I just... I don't want to risk everything changing, you know? They already see me as _different_, and here I am making myself even more different."

"There's nothing wrong with being different, though, I mean, look at me! I'm all weird-looking and nerdy and I've fallen down the stairs probably more than anyone else in the history of this school. And being gay isn't that bad. I'm sure lots of people are gay."

"Well, it feels pretty bad." 

Scorpius isn't sure what he can say to that, so he doesn't. 

"You can't solve all my problems, Scorpius," Albus says after a moment. 

"I know." As much as he wants to be able to. "But, seeing as we're _friends_ now, I'm happy to listen, or give advice, or whatever. And right now I think we should go back to the dorm, because it's bloody cold."

"It is, isn't it?" Albus opens his cigarette packet and takes one out. "I never got to smoke, though, since you showed up. You can go back if you want."

Scorpius weighs his options. On the one hand, leaving his newest and only friend out here by himself seems mean. But on the other hand, he really is freezing. Practically turning blue. 

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow, Albus." Scorpius drags himself to his feet, bones stiff from sitting in the same position from so long. "Goodnight."

"'G'night," Albus says around the cigarette in his mouth. Scorpius watches him for a moment before he turns to leave, but Albus doesn't look back at him at all. On his way back to the dorm, Scorpius resolves to stay awake until he hears Albus come in, just so he knows that he's safe. But his eyes are burning with exhaustion, so much that he can barely keep them open, and he drifts off long before Albus returns. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everything i write is a god damn cliche. sorry albus for projecting onto u


	4. Chapter 4

Someone is shaking him. They are very persistent and it’s very annoying. 

“Nng... Just five more minutes, dad,” Scorpius manages. He can feel sunlight on his skin. It's nice, and warm, and he's so sleepy...

“It's _really_ time to get up now,” a familiar voice hisses - but it's definitely not his dad. Scorpius forces his eyes open and sits up in bed.

“Albus?” 

Albus blinks back at Scorpius as he rubs his eyes. "We're going to be late for class. Come _on_."

Scorpius thinks he rather likes this _we_ thing. He could certainly get used to it.

"Are we, now?"

Albus groans, with a face like a martyred saint, but Scorpius thinks he might be smiling underneath. "Yes. I'm going to leave without you if you don't hurry up."

“Okay.” He tumbles out of bed, narrowly avoiding smacking his head on the sharp edge of his bedside table. Albus is already dressed, and has retreated to his own bed to sort through his school bag. Scorpius turns his back to Albus to pull his uniform on, strangely embarrassed by the idea of Albus seeing him shirtless in a way that he never has been before. It's different, he thinks, now that they're friends. He cares what Albus thinks of him much more now.

Albus hands him a muffin and a banana as they take the stairs up to the common room.

"You already went to breakfast?" Scorpius asks. He'd been working on the assumption that Albus was also in danger of being late, but apparently not, which means that... _Albus came back for him? _

"I was up early. I'm a morning person."

"But... you were up all night, too," Scorpius frowns. "When do you sleep?"

Albus scrunches his nose up, and Scorpius notes distantly how it's strangely endearing. "In class, mostly."

"Oh." They're out in the corridor now, packed with students on their way to class, and Scorpius knows that Albus will be going in the opposite direction to him for his maths class. "Well, I'll see you later?"

"Sure." And then Albus is gone, swept up in the sea of uniforms, leaving Scorpius by himself in the crowd with a strange sense of longing.

* * *

Scorpius learns quickly that it's very easy to have a friend. Maybe it's just because he and Albus shared the same brand of loneliness, loneliness brought on by the feeling of _otherness_, but he finds that nothing really changes, except that now he has someone to do all of his usual things with. They don't have many classes together, but they find each other in the hall at meal times, and in the library or the Slytherin common room in their free time. Sometimes they study together; Albus says that Scorpius is an excellent teacher, that he explains everything much more clearly than any of their teachers do, and it makes Scorpius glow inside, like he's swallowed a handful of fireflies. He gets the accompanying fluttering feeling in his stomach, too. The rest of the time, they just talk. That comes easily too, Scorpius finds. He hadn't realised how much he has to say, and now that Albus is around to listen, he can't seem to stop himself from saying anything and everything that comes into his head. It's nice to be able to talk about things instead of just keeping them inside all the time.

He learns a lot about Albus, too. He learns that Albus is left handed, that his favourite colour is yellow, and that he loves classical music.

"I know, I know, it sounds horribly pretentious," Albus mumbles. "That's why I don't tell people." 

"No," Scorpius says with a smile, "I think it's lovely."

There are a lot of things about Albus that Scorpius thinks are lovely. His favourite is the way that Albus's hair lies, with one particularly defiant curl that always sticks out loosely over his left ear. Scorpius spends a lot of time wondering what it would be like to reach out and tuck the curl back behind Albus's ear. But, of course, he never does.

One icy evening in early December, they're both on Scorpius's bed, pretending to study. Albus is lying on his front, feet in the air, with a textbook open in front of him, and Scorpius is sitting up against the headboard. Scorpius watches that same curl bounce as Albus sits up suddenly.

"Are you going to the winter formal?"

"I wasn't planning to," Scorpius says. It's only a few days away now, and he's been avoiding thinking about it. "I hadn't really thought about it at all, to be honest."

"Oh, thank god," Albus exhales. "I thought you might have - I don't know, asked someone, asked some girl, and then I'd be here all by myself while everyone is off having fun."

"Albus," Scorpius half-laughs. "Have you ever seen me talking to a girl? Or anyone other than you, for that matter?"

Albus scrunches his nose up, like he's thinking very hard. "I suppose not."

"What shall we do instead, then?"

Scorpius tries to to ignore the thrill of realising that he'll get to spend a whole evening with Albus, just the two of them. Of course, he already spends most evenings with Albus, but this seems different. Special. Something like anticipation tingles low in his stomach.

"We can do whatever we want, really," he says. "We can run riot through the castle. Everyone else will be busy in the hall with the stupid formal."

Albus snorts. "When have you ever wanted to _run riot?_ You shelve your own books when you return them to the library."

Scorpius is sure that Albus is joking, that he's not trying to be mean, but somehow it doesn't feel very funny at all. "Okay. We can just do nothing, then, like we always do." He's trying not to sound like a petulant child, but he isn't sure that it works. He fixes his gaze back on his history notes, reading the same sentence over and over, just to stop himself from looking at Albus.

"Scorpius." 

Albus is clambering up the bed to sit straddling Scorpius's legs where they're stretched out in front of him, and Scorpius's brain starts to feel foggy. He thinks perhaps it's taken a holiday without warning him. Albus's bare ankle is pressed against his.

"Scorpius," he says again. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean... Well, I didn't mean _that_, obviously." 

Scorpius stares determinedly at the page, trying so hard to resist the pleading look he can imagine that Albus is giving him.

"Look, I have an idea, and it _does_ involve going somewhere we're not supposed to."

Scorpius finally looks up, and sees Albus's smile glowing back at him. 

"What is it?"

"I'll tell you on Friday," he grins. "I want to surprise you." 

Albus's face changes then, abruptly, and he moves back to curl up at the far end of the bed. "Unless you don't like surprises?" He asks, and his features are crumpled in what Scorpius thinks is uncertainty. 

"Surprises are fine," he says, and watches Albus relax. He misses the weight of Albus sitting on his ankles, but it's probably better that he's gone. They don't touch often, but whenever they do it makes him feel strange. Scorpius goes back to his history notes and tries not to think about the warmth of Albus's skin against his. 

* * *

For the rest of the week Scorpius finds himself practically vibrating with excitement whenever anyone mentions the winter formal, wondering what Albus's surprise will be. It's probably something silly, he knows, but it still feels special. 

On Friday, the school is filled with whispers and rumours and nerves. Scorpius isn't usually privy to any of the secrets making their way around the building, but he overhears things.

_Martina McKinnon's boyfriend was cheating on her with a Gryffindor, they broke up last night, and supposedly he's going with this other girl now. Martina's spent all day crying in the first floor bathroom. _

_ _

_I heard that little Sara and Maddy both bought the same dress. The exact same one. How embarrassing. _

_ _

_Did you know, apparently, James Knight is trying to sneak some vodka in? I wonder if he'll share it._

None of it is important. None of it is interesting. Scorpius spends the day in a daze of anticipation, half thrilled, half terrified. What if Albus's plan to break the rules gets them in trouble? 

But when Albus finally shows him what they're doing, Scorpius realises that, as usual, he had no reason to worry. They wait until everyone has left, then sneak up a winding, disused staircase to the top of the fourth castle tower, the one that isn't occupied by a house common room or the computer room. They reach the very top of the stairs, and Scorpius watches as Albus grabs a long metal pole from a dusty corner.

"My cousin Teddy told me about this place," he says, hooking the end of the pole through a small metal loop in the ceiling above them. A door swings down from the ceiling, and a metal ladder slides out of it. "A secret tower attic!"

Albus looks ridiculously pleased with himself, and his joy is infectious. Scorpius finds himself grinning back as they climb up. 

"As far as I know, no one else knows about this," Albus says over his shoulder, "Not even James. So no one can catch us up here."

The attic is small, and the old wooden floor and draughty windows aren't exactly _cosy_, but there are giant beanbags and knitted blankets and even a TV.

"_Al_," Scorpius breathes. "This is _amazing_. I can't believe someone just left all this stuff here!" 

Albus pulls the door up behind them and flops down onto the nearest beanbag, which makes a wonderful _crunch_ sound. "I know. Teddy said that most of it was already here when he and his friends found it, they just added the TV." He nudges a stack of boxes towards Scorpius with his foot. "The DVD collection was kind of dire, but I've brought a few from home. You can pick something, if you want." 

Scorpius makes his decision almost at random, still overwhelmed by the fact that this secret place exists at all, and they end up watching a strange sci-fi movie about magicians in space. It's kind of terrible, really, but apparently it's one of Albus's favourites, and he talks through most of it, making sure that Scorpius appreciates all his favourite jokes. They're mostly awful, but Scorpius finds himself laughing whenever Albus does, anyway. When the movie finishes, Albus gets up to put on the sequel, which he claims is even better than the first one, when he's interrupted by a quiet rumbling noise. Albus glances over at Scorpius, who looks horrified. 

"Sorry," Scorpius says. "I was in the library and I missed dinner." 

"It's okay," Albus says, setting the DVD box down. "Um. I haven't got any food up here, but we could try sneaking into the kitchens? Winky who works there loves me, I'm in there all the time."

"You can get into the_ castle kitchens?_"

"Sure," Albus says. "Come on, I'll show you."

Albus locks up the attic behind them as they leave. The corridor downstairs is empty, but Scorpius can hear faint music playing from the direction of the hall. "Let's go this way," he says, taking Albus's bare wrist and pulling him in the opposite direction. "We can't go anywhere near the hall, someone will see us." But Albus isn't moving. He's staring out the window, into the dark, where snow is falling thick and heavy. 

"Scorpius, look," Albus says, and there's a perfect sense of wonder in his voice. "Look at the snow."

"This is Scotland, Albus," Scorpius says. "In December. It's been snowing for two months already." It's pretty, sure, but snow is nothing new by now, and he really is quite hungry. Apparently Albus doesn't care about that, though, because he goes to press his face up against the window. Scorpius watches as Albus's hot breath fogs the glass, and Albus wipes it away with the back of his hand.

"I've never seen it falling like this before," he says, turning back to Scorpius. "Those wonderful huge snowflakes, they're like magic. We never get snow in London, and up here I'm always asleep or in class or something..." Scorpius watches as Albus's gaze is dragged back to the window, as if there's something utterly irresistible out there. "Can we go out in it?"

"What, dressed like that?" Somehow Albus never seems to feel the cold, and even now in the dead of winter he's only wearing sweatpants and a thin t-shirt. “You’ll die.”

“Hm,” Albus muses, as though freezing to death isn't a particularly big concern of his. “Well, we can go back to the dorm and get our coats, if you want.” He’s still looking out at the snow, mesmerised by it, and Scorpius catches himself watching the way Albus’s eyes are so deep and bright with wonder and has to chastise himself firmly. 

"Albus."

"Yeah?" Albus says absently, hypnotised by the snowfall.

"If you want to go outside, we have to actually _go_."

"What?" Albus turns around to where Scorpius is standing and watching him. "Oh, yeah. Let's go, then."

After a trip back to the dorm for warmer clothes and a hurried dinner of biscuits Albus had hidden in a drawer for emergencies, Scorpius finds himself practically running through the corridors after Albus in his rush to make it outside before it stops snowing. They come across a couple of people dressed up, coming from the hall, and a girl who Scorpius thinks might be Martina McKinnon, who is still crying.

Their usual back door is stuck tight, blocked by a growing snow drift, and it takes both of them to push it open. Scorpius is almost shivering just at the thought of going out there, but Albus is undeterred, wading through fresh powdery snow that reaches far past his ankles. "What are you waiting for? Come on!" he calls over his shoulder, the words almost swept away by the gaping cold space between them. Scorpius has to go, really, if Albus wants him to, so he follows his friend out into the dark. The cold air hits him like a punch in the gut as he steps outside, and he makes his way over to where Albus is swatting at the branches of a snow-laden tree with a stick he's found. 

"Watch this," Albus says, grinning, waving his stick again, and when it hits a tree branch, Scorpius gets a face full of snow. 

"Hey! I'll get you for that!" 

Scorpius bends down for a handful of snow, and then there's icy water melting in his hair and running down his face, getting in his eyes, and it's colder than he's ever been before, and it's strangely wonderful. He wipes his face with the back of his hand, and aims a snowball at Albus, who's dancing away from him. 

"I bet you a fiver that won't hit me," Albus says, a split second before the snowball hits him square in the face.

"What was that, Al?" Scorpius calls, smug as anything, before he realises that Albus has wiped the snow out of his eyes and is preparing an attack of his own. There's no time to duck before Albus's snowball hits, and he lets out a shriek at the icy slush that's in his hood and dripping down his back. 

It becomes a full-on war, then, both boys screaming and chasing each other and flinging snow in every direction. The weak yellow light spilling out from the castle windows doesn't do much to illuminate the darkness, and Scorpius can barely see through the snow that's still falling hard. Still, it's a shock when Albus barrels into him and they both topple over into the snow. 

"Sorry," Albus says from above him, breathless, smiling, cheeks flushed with cold. His green house beanie is sitting askew over his hair. From this close, Scorpius can see every fleck of gold in Albus's eyes, every snowflake stuck to his eyelashes. He watches Albus worry his lower lip between his teeth for a few moments, before he shakes himself out of this strange trance.

"It's fine," he says, "but can you get off me now?"

"Oh, sure," Albus says, and gets up too quickly, like Scorpius's touch has burned him even through layers of clothing. 

There's something between them now, sharp and maybe dangerous, and Scorpius wonders whether Albus can feel it too. Something like tension and confusion and the knowledge that maybe he shouldn't be this close to someone who is just his friend. Scorpius doesn't want to say anything, just in case he ruins it, and Albus doesn't acknowledge it either, just brushes the snow off his coat and offers Scorpius a hand up from where he's still lying on the ground. They watch each other in the near-silent dark. 

"Sorry," Albus says again. "I didn't see you in the dark, and now you're all wet and cold and covered in snow and-"

"It's okay, Al, really," Scorpius laughs, because it is, but Albus still doesn't look convinced. "Are you coming back inside?"

Albus reaches into his pocket for the cigarette packet that Scorpius didn't even realise was there. "You go," he says, and it feels like an order. Scorpius hesitates anyway, and Albus watches him blankly for a few moments before cracking half a smile. "Go, you must be freezing," he says. "I'll be back soon."

On his way back to the dorm, Scorpius begins to think that maybe he hasn't figured Albus out, after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took me forever but in my defense it's the longest (and gayest) chapter yet :)
> 
> come chat to me @ wesninska on tumblr !!


	5. Chapter 5

They don't talk about it, the new bright, strange thing between them. They just carry on as they normally do. Albus and Scorpius, best friends, outcasts. Scorpius very deliberately doesn't allow himself to wonder whether Albus could be feeling the same thing as he has been since that night in the snow, because he knows that it's pointless. Requited crushes aren't for people like him. He's happy being just friends, if it's what Albus wants. 

The winter break is painful. There's Christmas to celebrate, and New Year, and Scorpius's birthday is at the start of January too, but he's gotten so used to being with Albus all the time that everything seems empty and false without him there. They text each other all day, but it's not the same. Scorpius's family is small, which doesn't help, and he misses being around other people (around _Albus, _really) so much that he heads back to school a week early. Albus arrives three days later and comes to find Scorpius at lunch.

"I told my dad," he says immediately, sliding onto the bench next to Scorpius without so much as a 'hello'.

"Told him what?" Scorpius asks, although from the smile on Albus’s face he thinks he can probably guess. 

Albus looks around. The hall isn’t packed like it is during term-time, but it isn’t exactly empty, either. There are people sitting within a few feet of them. 

"You _know_ what. Right before I left, so he didn’t have time to react badly or anything. But it was fine! Good, even. I mean, it was a bit awkward of course, but he and mum said they would love me regardless, or something like that. I’m worried that they’re going to send something rainbow coloured and utterly obnoxious in the post, though." 

"Al, that’s wonderful!" Albus is so happy he’s practically glowing, and it’s infectious, and Scorpius doesn’t even try to stop himself from pulling Albus into a hug. It’s awkward for a second, but then it isn’t, and Albus squeezes Scorpius back before he lets go. 

"So, now that you’re _out and proud_, as it were... Any cute guys you’ve got your eye on?" 

Albus stares into his soup.

"Al! You’re not seriously going to keep your crush a secret from me, are you? I can help you ask him out, if you want. I happen to be an excellent wingman." Scorpius feels strangely heavy, like there's a weight tied around his heart, but he doesn’t think it means anything significant. Albus getting together with this mystery boy doesn’t mean they can’t still be friends. 

"Scorpius, I know for a fact that’s a lie, because I have watched you interrupt a couple snogging in the library to ask if they needed help finding anything."

"Okay, fine. If you tell me who this person is, I promise to not ever interrupt you while you’re snogging him."

"I’m not going to tell you. I... I can’t." Albus seems _dejected _somehow, which Scorpius thinks is exactly the opposite of how having a crush should feel. 

"Is it someone we know? It is, isn’t it? Is it that guy who let you borrow his notes from biology last term and kept smiling at you from across the classroom? Oh, what was his name... Jeremy? Joseph?"

"Scorpius." Albus’s voice is hard like it’s never been before, and it’s almost scary. "Stop guessing. I’m not going to tell you." 

"Okay then." If Albus doesn't want him to know, he won't push it, but Scorpius is absolutely desperate to know who this boy is, though he's not sure why. Maybe Albus will tell him, in time. Or maybe it's better that he doesn't know, so he can't be jealous.

* * *

It's a little easier, now that the worst of the cold has passed, but Scorpius still finds himself jolting awake in the early hours of the morning. There's a weight pressing down on his chest. There's a vacuum in his lungs, in the whole room, it's like there's no air left in the entire castle for him to breathe. He reaches blindly for his inhaler where it should be by his bed, but all he finds is the smooth wooden surface of his bedside table. There's a dull _thud_ as he swipes a pile of books off onto the floor in his distress. His fingers close around smooth plastic, finally, and he brings it to his mouth, desperate for relief from this airless prison. His chest is heaving, and although he knows it's not realistic, he thinks he can feel the medication flowing into his blood. 

"Scorpius?"

_Shit_.

Albus is awake, sitting up in bed, his hair sticking up from where he's been lying on his side.

"Sorry," Scorpius manages, still breathless, but now panicking too. "Didn't mean... didn't mean to wake you."

Albus smooths his wild hair down with one hand, and gets up to come and sit at the end of Scorpius's bed. "I wasn't asleep," he says quietly, and glances over to the other side of the dorm, where one of their roommates is turning in his sleep. "Are you okay?"

Scorpius can't lie to Albus, he can't say _yes, I'm fine_, but he doesn't want to say that he's not fine either, so he just shakes his head. 

"Do you want to go outside?"

"Yes," he whispers, and maybe his heart is racing from the medication or the panic or maybe it's the way that Albus knows exactly what he needs. It could easily be both. 

Scorpius doesn't bother getting dressed, just fishes his shoes out from under his bed, and Albus hands him his coat as they leave the dorm. He doesn't trust himself to speak yet, wants to savour the oxygen he's finally getting back into his body, so he just follows Albus through the dimly lit corridors to their favourite spot. By the time they get there, he's still shaky, but his breathing is almost back to normal. Albus pushes the door open a little with his foot, and the cool air that rushes in gives Scorpius a perfect moment of relief, though he still doesn't know why he loves the cold so much. He slumps down on the top step, leaning back against the arch of the door frame, and Albus takes a seat next to him.

"Better?" he asks, and Scorpius smiles weakly.

"Yeah. Sorry for bothering you. This just... happens, sometimes." 

"It's okay," Albus says, and it's the kind of statement that Scorpius would usually second-guess, because it couldn't really be okay that he's inconveniencing someone, but Albus looks so _sincere_ with his hair wild and pyjamas crumpled and his features are so soft and kind that Scorpius can't do anything but believe him. 

"What is it like?" Albus asks after a while. 

"What's what like?"

"The asthma thing. When you can't breathe."

Scorpius watches Albus curiously for a moment. There must be a reason he's asking, but Scorpius can't figure out why.

"It's like... logically, you know that there's air around you, but you can't take it in. It's horrible, really, terrifying, because you know you can't do anything about it, but you have to. It makes me panic like nothing else I've ever felt. Sometimes when it's bad it feels like I'm drowning, like I'm dying. I wouldn't wish it on anyone." 

Albus is messing with the hem of his pyjama pants, pulling at a loose green thread. "It sounds awful."

"Why do you ask?"

"Oh, I don't know," Albus says, and he's quiet and maybe a little nervous, Scorpius thinks. Or tentative, at least. "I have a strange fascination with it, I suppose. Breathing. Or not breathing, rather. Not that smoking is the same, of course, I'm doing that to myself on purpose, but... I was wondering how someone like you would see it."

"I don't see it like anything, Albus," Scorpius says. "It's bad for you, sure, but you know that."

"I'm trying to quit," Albus says quietly. "I tried, over the holidays. You made me feel bad about it."

That's an uncomfortable idea, Scorpius thinks. Making someone feel bad is one of the worst things he can imagine himself doing. 

"I don't want to make you feel bad. I don't mind it, Albus. It's inconvenient, I suppose, but-"

"It's more inconvenient to me than it is to you," Albus says, sudden and sharp. "I'm the one that it's killing."

Scorpius isn't at all sure how to counter that. He wants Albus to know that he honestly doesn't mind, that he's not judging him, that Albus has better reasoning than some for starting to smoke, because he's known from the start that he shouldn't. But Albus seems closed off now, suddenly, and he's stretching the loose thread he's pulled from from his pyjamas between his fingers and looking out across the castle gardens, where the layer of frost on the grass sparkles like silver in the moonlight. 

"Al," Scorpius starts, without knowing what he's going to say next. He feels inexplicably like he's done something wrong, said something wrong, but he can't work out what. 

"Sorry," Albus says, but he doesn't look at Scorpius. "It's not you, of course it's not you. I felt bad about it from the start, I just couldn't help myself. I just wanted to _feel something_, you know? But being friends with you, seeing how awful it must be to have fucked up lungs when it's not even your fault, it made me realise how stupid I'm being. I should probably thank you." Albus glances at him just for a moment, but there's something strange in his eyes. "I don't like talking about this stuff, but... you make it easier."

"It's okay, Al," Scorpius says, into the long silence that stretches between them. "If you're trying, that's what's important."

"It's not, though," Albus says, and he sounds angry again. "I'm fucking around, just experimenting, and you're stuck feeling like you're drowning in air every other night. Don't you think that's selfish? Don't you hate me for it?"

"Never. I could never hate you, Albus." Albus still won't look at him, and it hurts. It feels like he's fighting a losing battle. He just needs Albus to understand how deeply he cares about him.

"Albus. You chose to do something stupid, knowing it was stupid, because you were hurting and you wanted to hurt yourself more, and now you're trying to stop. What's selfish about that?" Maybe there are tears pricking at his eyes, or maybe it's the freezing January wind that's blowing in through the door that's making his vision blur. He blinks hard. He won't cry, not now. "Wanting to quit because of someone else is more selfless than anything."

"I never thought of it like that," Albus says, and his voice cracks a little on the last word. He leans back on his hands, looking up at the arching ceiling above them. 

"That's what friends are for," Scorpius says, and moves his hand a little so that his fingers brush against Albus's. Albus looks over at him, then, and the pain in his eyes hurts Scorpius more than he would have expected.

"Friends," Albus repeats, soft. "Yeah." 

Scorpius is reminded suddenly of that night at the end of last term, in the dark, when Albus pinned him down in the snow. How easy it would have been, to just lean up to kiss him. How easy it would be, right now, to just reach over and kiss Albus. But Albus has a crush on someone who is decidedly not him, and they haven't talked about the thing like electricity between them since that night. He doesn't even know whether Albus feels it too, or whether he's imagining it, or whether this is just what it's supposed to feel like when you think you might be in love with your best friend. 

In the end, it doesn't matter what he feels. What matters is Albus.

"Let's go back," Scorpius says quickly, as Albus reaches into his coat pocket. He knows instantly what Albus is looking for. 

"But I didn't have a chance to-"

"Exactly," Scorpius interrupts. "That's the whole point."

Albus frowns a little. "You don't have to do that," he says, something like bemusement in his voice. 

"I know," Scorpius says. "But I want to. That's what friends are for." It hurts to say that word, to know it's all they'll ever be, but he forces himself to smile through it anyway. Then he has an even better idea. "Give me your lighter."

Albus frowns at him. "Why?"

"Next time you want to smoke, you'll have to go and find another one, and maybe in the time it takes to do that, you'll remember why it's a bad idea."

"That actually... makes a lot of sense." Albus reaches into his pocket to pass Scorpius the lighter, and Scorpius shivers as Albus's fingers brush his palm. 

"Thanks," he says, and Albus looks at him strangely. 

"You're welcome," Albus replies, more like a question than a statement, and there's a smile playing on his lips. "Come on, let's go back before you freeze to death."

Scorpius lies awake in bed until it starts to get light outside again, distracted by the thought of Albus's hand in his.


	6. Chapter 6

Albus's lighter disappears from Scorpius's coat pocket within the week, and Scorpius wants to say something - confront Albus, maybe, or ask for it back - but eventually he decides against it. It's Albus's choice, after all, and he doesn't want to make him feel worse about it. And anyway, Albus seems to be pulling away from him recently. It had started out slow, after they came back for the new term, so slow that Scorpius didn't notice for a while, but now it's undeniable. He's quieter, more reserved, and Scorpius desperately misses his dry humour. Albus spends meal times in the library by himself, or out in the grounds now that it's getting warmer again, and in the evenings he draws the hangings closed around his bed earlier than ever. Scorpius finds himself alone again, desperately lonely again, and now that he knows what it's like to have a friend it hurts so much more than it ever did before. He can't think of anything he could have done to upset Albus, but there must be something, because why else would he be distancing himself? When he asks, Albus just says that he's busy.

Maybe he is just busy. They have exams coming up in the next few months. But Scorpius is getting worried. It feels like there's something else, and he needs to know what it is. Albus isn't around much any more; wherever Scorpius is, Albus goes somewhere else. He doesn't _like_ spying, he doesn't want to, but if Albus won't tell him anything, what else can he do? 

It takes him a few days to work up the courage, but he manages eventually. Albus leaves their evening study session in the library early, and Scorpius shoves his books into his bag haphazardly, and follows at a distance. Albus is going back to that secret attic in the tower, Scorpius realises after a little while, and it's the perfect place to confront him. No, not _confront_ \- that sounds accusatory, angry, nothing like genuine concern for a friend at all. He just wants to make sure that Albus is alright, Scorpius reasons. That's all. But when he gets to the top of the ladder and pushes himself out of the hole in the floor into the room, Albus looks truly horrified to see him. 

"Did you _follow me_?" His tone is awful, and Scorpius feels the guilt he's been suppressing bubble up in his chest.

"I didn't mean to, Al. Or rather, I didn't want to. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You've been so distant recently, it's scary."

Albus mutters something under his breath, turning away from Scorpius, and it _hurts_. "I'm fine. I just wanted some space."

He has done something wrong, then. He should have known. Albus is an introvert, he doesn't want some strange boy following him around all day and chattering nineteen to the dozen. He's just too polite to tell Scorpius to leave him alone. 

"I'm sorry," Scorpius says, and the words are thick with the tears he's trying so hard to suppress. "I'll leave you alone from now on, then." He goes to step back onto the ladder, but Albus grabs his hand, and the unexpected touch makes him jump.

"No, I didn't mean - not like that, Scorpius, it's not you, it's just..." Albus chews on his lower lip, and Scorpius tries very hard not to watch his mouth. "There's this guy, and I really like him, but sometimes it feels like he's everywhere and it just gets to be a bit too much."

Albus's damned crush, again. Scorpius thinks back to the library, wondering who was there that could have bothered Albus so much that he feels like he has to run away. It's been getting busier in there now, since exams are coming up, but he can't put names to any specific faces; he still has no idea who it could be. He pulls the door up so it closes behind him and takes a seat on the floor next to Albus, who's leaning up against the wall. "I'm sorry," he says again, though he isn't sure what for; it just feels right. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Albus shakes his head, and he's half smiling, but it feels broken, somehow. "You know I can't tell you." It's what Albus has been saying for weeks, but it doesn't make any more sense now than it did in January, when Albus first mentioned it to him. Albus just shuts the conversation down, every single time, and Scorpius has had enough of it.

"_Why_, Albus? Isn't this what friends talk about? Isn't it better to tell someone, at least?" He wants so badly to understand. He wants to be able to do something, anything for Albus, because seeing him heartbroken like this is unbearable. 

"I can't," Albus says, looking down at his hands, quiet and small. 

"Can't you at least tell me why, though? I just want to understand, Albus, I want to help -"

"Because it’s you, Scorpius. _It’s you_." 

There’s a vacuum in Scorpius’s lungs, a complete lack of air in his chest. He feels his heart stutter. Is this how people die of shock?

"Albus?"

Albus is looking resolutely away - down at his knees, all around the tiny attic, out of the window and across the lake, anywhere but at him. 

"Albus," Scorpius says again, but Albus still won’t look at him, so Scorpius reaches across the yawning space between them to touch Albus’s cheek and turn his face towards him. Their eyes meet, just for a fraction of a second, and Scorpius sees tears welling in Albus’s eyes before he squeezes them shut. 

"Please, Albus, look at me. It’s okay, I promise." His voice cracks. He didn’t realise until now how close he is to crying himself. "Al, _please_." 

Albus opens his eyes slowly, his lashes slick with tears, and Scorpius sees the world of hurt behind them and wants to throw himself out of the tower window for causing it. _He’s hurt Albus so, so much. _

"I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Al, I never knew." Albus doesn’t say anything. Scorpius isn’t sure what he wants Albus to say. His hand is still on Albus’s cheek, and he brushes the tear tracks away gently. It seems important to ask first, so he does. 

"Can I kiss you?" 

And then Albus is throwing him off, furious, blazing as he pushes himself up off the floor and as far away from Scorpius as the size of the space they’re sharing will allow. 

"Of course you can’t _kiss me_! I don’t need your_ fucking pity_, Scorpius!" Albus is white-hot and raw and blisteringly beautiful as he screams, the collar of his shirt soaked through with tears, hands crumpled into fists as though he’s about to start throwing punches. Scorpius probably deserves it. If he thought it would make Albus feel better, he would let it happen. 

They both just stay there for a few moments, still and silent, watching. Waiting for the other. Scorpius wants so badly to tell Albus that he’s got it wrong, that it’s not pity, that he feels the same, but he can’t get the words to make sense in his head. He’s been hiding them for too long. Then Albus says, "You have no idea what it’s been like." His voice isn’t soft, not by any means, but maybe it’s a little _softer_. It’s certainly quieter. "You have no idea, Scorpius. It’s been pure emotional torture, these last few months, knowing you and wanting you and not ever being able to have you. Knowing that you could never feel the same way about me. You’re by my side, all day, every day, and I can’t stand it. I fucking hate you. I hate your stupid face and how your clothes always smell of lavender and how you always chew the end of the pencil you’re holding when you think, even if it’s mine. Did you know every single one of my pencils has been in your stupid, perfect mouth at some point this year? I hate that you’re so perfect it makes it hard for me to even think when you’re around. But when you’re not around I can’t think of anything but you." 

Scorpius is sobbing now, he realises, as Albus crosses back to sit down on the floor next to him, reaches a shaking arm around his shoulders to pull him close. All the heat from a few seconds ago is gone now, and Scorpius feels wonderfully warm with Albus beside him again. 

"I hate that I still want to comfort you right now. But I suppose that’s what love is," Albus says, and his voice trembles over the last few words. 

Scorpius lets out a mournful hiccup in surprise. "You love me?" 

"Of course I love you, you idiot. How could I not?" 

"Al, I have to tell you something." Scorpius is trying to calm down, because he knows he’s embarrassing himself and he has no right to even be crying in the first place because this is _all his fault_, but it’s hard. "Can you please not yell again, though?" 

"Depends on what you’re going to say," Albus says, and that will have to do. 

"I think you’re - I’m -" Scorpius has to stop and swallow his words and start again, because this is all much too big for this tiny attic and he’s so scared. 

"Al, I feel the same way about you." 

He feels Albus’s whole body go rigid next to him. 

"Scorpius Malfoy," he says slowly, "if this is a joke, I will pitch you out of that window right this second, and that’s a promise." 

Scorpius reaches up to pull Albus’s face round, to look him in the eyes. He can’t speak, any words he has on his tongue or in his mind couldn’t possibly be right for this moment, so he hopes with everything he has that Albus can see it for himself instead. Albus regards him solemnly for a moment, then turns so that his whole body is facing Scorpius, his fingertips brushing against the inside of Scorpius’s wrist. Scorpius thinks he might explode. 

"Can I kiss you?" Albus asks, soft, feather light, and apparently takes the desperate pleading on Scorpius’s face for the _yes_ that it is, leaning in to finally close that gap. When their mouths meet, it’s quite wet, and honestly not particularly _good_ on a physical level, but Scorpius is so overcome with emotion he thinks he might cry again. 

"We’ve been so stupid," he says instead, and Albus smiles against his mouth. 

"Ridiculously stupid," he agrees, then kisses Scorpius again. It’s heartbreakingly gentle, soft and simple and chaste, but it means the world. 

"You could've just told me, Al," Scorpius says, a breath away from Albus's lips. "We could have saved so much time. We could have been doing this for months already." 

"I thought you were straight," Albus laughs, but it's still sad. "I didn't want to be that... that gay cliché, the guy who's in love with his best friend."

_Best friend_, Scorpius mouths, because the sound is sticking in his throat. Albus kisses the words off his lips.

"Of course you're my best friend," he says. "I just didn't think you were into guys."

"Yes. I mean, I’m pretty sure I am. You seem surprised." Saying it out loud feels strange - he's never really thought about himself in that way before. He's never liked anyone else before, not properly. Not like this. He just likes _Albus_. 

"Well, I just thought... when I bared my soul and came out to you that night, you might have told me then." 

"Sorry, Al, I didn’t want to make it all about me. And I didn't really know then, anyway."

"Well, what about any of the other times we’ve talked about it?" 

"I wasn’t thinking about myself then. Or ever, really. I just wanted to be a supportive friend. My own feelings aren’t all that important." He thinks that Albus really should have realised this about him by now, this desperate need to put others above himself, but apparently not. 

“Scorpius..." Albus's fingers press against his wrist again, and it sends a shock through his whole body. "Do you really think that? That your feelings aren’t just as important as anyone else’s?”

Scorpius frowns, not sure of how much he can admit without sounding ridiculously self-sacrificing, but obviously Albus isn't going to let this go. “I do. I mean, I’m always so focused on how I can help others, and I suppose my own feelings always end up getting pushed aside a bit. It’s not big deal, though, really, it’s - I mean, it's fine, it's okay, I don't mind being-“

He’s cut off quite abruptly by Albus kissing him. It’s surprising for a moment, but within seconds he melts into it. Albus’s knuckles brush the side of Scorpius’s neck as he reaches to tangle a hand in his hair. 

"Your incessant rambling is cute, you know," Albus murmurs, his mouth still only a breath away from Scorpius's. "But not when you're putting yourself down."

"I really wasn't, though. Putting myself down, I mean, because it's all true, I'd rather make others happy, if I can-"

Albus kisses him again, harder, more insistent this time.

"Stop it."

He has no intention of stopping, really, because he needs Albus to understand that this is a part of who he is. It's what he exists to do. If he's happy, then that's nice, but he would much rather give to others than take for himself. But it's hard to think when Albus's mouth is on his like this, swallowing all of his thoughts up and replacing them with this glorious warmth.

"Okay." 

He can always try and explain himself again later. For now, Scorpius lets himself get lost in the wonderful realisation that Albus _likes him_, that Albus wants to kiss him like this over and over, and it's all he can think about._ Albus, Albus, Albus,_ like a litany in his mind, taking all of his worries and crumpling them away. He can deal with everything else another time. Right now, it's all about the boy with the soft curly hair and the beautiful deep brown eyes who's kissing him breathless, tongue flicking into his mouth, clinging to him as though his life depended on it. It's everything he can ever imagine wanting, here and now.

Scorpius doesn't ever want the moment to end, he wants to stay here wrapped up in Albus for the rest of their lives, but of course time doesn't work that way. It's been dark outside for hours already, and they have to go back to real life. The corridors are mostly empty as they make their way down to Slytherin house, and Scorpius relishes in the way that Albus reaches out quietly to link their hands together when there's no one around. He doesn't mind, he doesn't care whether people see them and make assumptions, but it's strangely lovely to keep _them_ a secret for now. It's like he and Albus are the only two people on earth who are real, and the castle corridors they walk through take on a dreamlike quality that Scorpius wants to hold onto forever. But nothing is forever, and their roommates are all there when they reach their dorm, and the way that Albus stands a little distance away from him makes him feel oddly empty. 

"Goodnight," Albus whispers to him as they separate for bed, and the way Albus's breath tickles his hair and his fingers brush Scorpius's bare arm are enough to make him go weak at the knees. "I'll see you later?"

It's strange, but nice, to actually plan a nighttime adventure for once, and the secret smile Albus gives him is even nicer. 

"Okay," Scorpius whispers back, and climbs into bed. They have to wait until the others are asleep, and until the teachers have done their nightly rounds to make sure that there are no students out of bed after hours, and the time passes so incredibly slowly, it's almost painful. Knowing that Albus is right there, just across the room, but that they have to wait until the early hours of the morning to talk again, is agonising. Scorpius listens to Albus shifting around in his bed and waits.

Eventually, after what realistically is probably only a few hours but seems like forever, there's a different sound, like footsteps. Scorpius rolls over and sees Albus standing over his bed, looking soft and utterly beautiful. He takes Scorpius by the hand and they move quickly, quietly, through the common room and up the stairs and out to their favourite spot. It's late, and the castle is mostly silent, with only the occasional _creak_ that's second nature to a building as ancient as this one, but it's a lot earlier than their usual meetings. This time it's deliberate, and it feels like they're misbehaving much more than it ever has before. Albus pulls him into the little alcove that holds the doorway, and before Scorpius can speak he's being pushed up against the wall. 

"Hey," Albus says, mischief in his eyes, and kisses him deeply before he can reply, their bodies pressed together. Scorpius can feel Albus's body heat against his front and the cool stone of the wall behind him through his pyjamas, and it's a wonderful duet. There's a familiar ache in his chest, and he thinks it might be love. It's a little hard to breathe through it, but it's not like it usually is.

“You’ve quite literally taken my breath away,” Scorpius murmurs between kisses. “I am breathless.” 

“That’s not funny, Scorpius.” Albus pulls away for a moment, frowning, and Scorpius mourns his absence deeply. “Are you okay?”

“If you’re looking for me to tell you that you’re so good at kissing that you've triggered an asthma attack, you’ll be disappointed,” Scorpius says, his mouth barely a millimetre from Albus’s, their lips touching with every other word. “But yes, I’m okay. I just want more of you.” 

"You're in luck," Albus smiles, "because that's all I want, too." He moves in for another kiss, and Scorpius is lost again, lost in the touch of Albus's mouth against his and Albus's hands on his skin and in his hair, and it's perfect.

Eventually, Albus moves away and releases Scorpius from the wall. "I need a smoke," he says, and Scorpius makes a face. 

"Hey, come on," Albus protests, as he pulls the pack out of his pocket. "I might be trying to quit, but I'm not perfect, you know. Just let me have this." He pushes the door open and sits on the top step like he always does as he lights the cigarette between his lips, and Scorpius just watches the way his fingers and his mouth move so purposefully, mesmerised. It's strange, he thinks, watching Albus blow smoke out into the gardens, how something so terrible can almost be beautiful. Or maybe it's just Albus that's beautiful. He can't stop watching, either way. Albus drops the glowing stump onto the ground and grinds the light out with his shoe, then glances over at Scorpius, tilting his head a little, beckoning. Scorpius goes to sit next to him and links their fingers together. There's so much more to talk about, he knows, but now isn't the time for it. They have plenty of days, plenty of nights too, to work everything out. Right now, all he needs is to know that Albus is here with him. 

When he leans over for a kiss, Albus tastes of smoke, but Scorpius doesn’t mind. He knows it’s awful, he won’t miss it when Albus manages to quit, but until then... he rather likes it. It reminds him of a courtyard and a lonely boy and the glow of a cigarette in the darkness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit guys, i can't believe this fic is over. i'm going to miss it.  
thank you so, SO much to everyone who's read this far, because i appreciate it so very much!! especially everyone who has left kudos or commented (or commented multiple times??), i love you all <3  
come chat to me @ wesninska on tumblr!!


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